Constant Electricity
by ToastersThatPlayLazertag
Summary: Maybe...just maybe they'd fall back into that mutual weirdness called love.


_Summary: Maybe...just maybe they'd fall back into that mutual weirdness called love._

_Pairing: Violate (Violet x Tate cause who doesn't love them?)_

_Rating: K+_

It's been years since she left him. The house was still standing, people were still moving in and out, and the ghost of the dead still roamed around, making things so bump in the dead of night. She didn't grow or change in many ways. Her hair was still brown and straight, her eyes were still same shade of brown, she was still a teenager. She didn't want to change, nor did she expect to. Around here, everyone stayed the same as they did when they passed. Their corpses rotted, sure, but they didn't. The nurses were still bright and helpful, Elizabeth still wanted to be a star, and Hayden was still sexy and provocative. The real estate agent constantly came in, sold the house and was on her merry way, not caring what happened to the family who bought the Murder House. The Live Ones - as she liked to call them - were still naïve and young, until one of them saw them or worse - died. Every Halloween they all left the house, and walked among the living, pretending to fit in with them.

In a way, she liked it. Everything was constant, and she doesn't like change. Change is what ruined her family. Change is what got her here. Change is why she's stuck inside a house with other souls wandering around.

In a way, she hated it. Everything was constant, but she was itching for something to happen. She needed a change in scenery. She was _desperate _to find something more. Anything more would do. The new people who were added to the collections of trapped souls usually kept to themselves for a decade or two, but she couldn't wait that long. If she didn't get out she was going to blow her head off, but what good would that do? She'd still be dead, she'd still be in that house, and she's still be itching.

* * *

It's been years since she left him, fifteen to be exact. Everything was changing around him, yet it felt the same. The same dead roamed the hallways and littered the basement. His room was always occupied by a teenager who was fucked in some way. Usually, that teenager would die in the house, and be trapped here with them, but it seemed that people got more annoying as the years passed. He would've been forty-nine, but is stuck as a seventeen year old teenager. She was changing and he knew it. He studied her everyday since she all but disappeared from his life.

The only thing she was afraid of was change, but now she craves it. She's more aware of how everything's constant, stagnant. She's getting older, like he did. The only difference is, while he hid from his death, she's embracing hers. She committed suicide and she's proud of it. His mother wanders in and out of the house, and he thinks it's because she wants to die in the house. He knows that she's sickly, and it's likely that she could croak anytime in the next month. And honestly, he was counting on it, if she died in the house, he could torment her forever, if not, then he wouldn't have to see her ugly mug again. Hayden noticed everything in the house too, and tried to sleep with everything that moved. She disgusted everyone in the house, but he understood. She was lonely.

He'd hate to admit it, but he was too.

He loves to think this, but Violet was lonely too.

* * *

Halloween's in a few hours, and she can't be more ecstatic. She can get out, stretch her legs a bit. Undoubtably, Halloween has become her favorite holiday. She can be a part of the working world around her, even if it's for one night only. It thrilled her to no end. She's in the kitchen, looking around the fridge. She doesn't know why, she can't feel anything that's not dead, but she looks anyway. She sees there's a bottle of champagne, cupcakes, and cookies. "For the next victims," she said, grimacing. She smiled slightly, and grabbed the bottle. She turned on the sink faucet and poured it down the drain. Hearing the gurgling, she smiles brightly.

"Won't she be pissed off she found out you wasted her hors d'oeuvre?" Tate said, a sly smile on his face. The dead girl turned around and looked at the even deader boy in the doorway. She turned back around, and regretted even coming in the kitchen in the first place. She hasn't been keeping track, but every day for years on end, she's seen that handsome face behind her eyelids. The same messy blond hair, same brown eyes, same everything. He was _always _there, watching her, protecting her in his own way. He was always over her shoulder, but at a respectable distance that she could tolerate, although some days she wished he'd move closer. It was constant. _He _was constant. She hated (loved?) constant things. Constant things represent stability and dependency, but he wasn't stable or dependable.

Or was he?

She could always count on him to be there, even when she didn't want him there. She knows he's still in the doorway, waiting for her response. It's _him, _and he's always waiting on her. She turns around and isn't shocked to see that he sat down at the table, a mere two feet away from her. "You didn't answer my question," he said, a knowing, smug smile on his face. He's gotten to here, and all he's had to do is be in her presence. _It shouldn't be this easy, _he thought. He knows her, and she's like a rubix cube. She's not easy and it's almost impossible to solve her. Something was up, and because he's Tate and he loves her, he's going to find out what.

"I don't care if her little party's ruined," she said, walking to the fridge and pulling out the cupcakes. She doesn't care much for chocolate, but she bites into it anyway. The pink frosting sits on her upper lip until she licks it away. It weird, she loved frosting, but she can't enjoy this. It taste cold and store-bought, but she still eats it. She doesn't feel it after it leaves her tongue. Looking down at the carton, the dead boy picks up one. He likes chocolate, but it tastes bland and boring. It's weird, because he hasn't had chocolate in years, but it doesn't taste as good as he remembers. "I didn't ask if you wanted one," she said, but not doing anything about the cupcake in his hand. He smirked at her.

"You're eyes told me that it was okay," he said. She half smiled at him and looked down slightly. He tilted her head up and forced her to look at him, though she wasn't resisting. His eyes were soft and his hands were even softer. They were cold, like most dead things, but still soft, almost like snow. She relished this moment, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't mind if this stayed constant. She couldn't help but remember _why _she loved him. When he looks at you like that, how can you _not _fall for him? She thought about grabbing his hand, just to feel him. "It's been fifteen years, Violet," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. She tore his gaze and stared into his hand.

She reached her hand up and removed his from his hand from her face. They both felt the sparks coming from that one, simple touch, but they both ignored it. Her eyes gave it away, she missed feeling that spark. She hoped there wasn't a blush forming on her face, but she didn't hide. He can already tell what she thinking, _she likes touching him again._ He doesn't hide the smile growing on his face. He knows that she knows he misses her. He said that he'd wait forever, and he intended on doing just that if it was necessary. He treasured the second their hands touched, and missed it when the second passed. His short, blunt nails, digged into his thigh, but he doesn't notice it. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, but she kept her calm. "I know," she said, her voice quiet. _It couldn't have been that long, _she thought.

The smile on his face faded softly. "Halloween's in three hours," he said, looking at the clock and seeing it was nine o'clock. He knew that she loved Halloween. As soon as the clock struck twelve, she and the red-headed twins went out. He didn't know exactly what she did, as he never left the house, but he knew that she spent every moment outside. Truth be told, he liked Halloween too, but he swore not to celebrate until she forgave him.

"I know," she said, looking at him.

"You going out?"

"...Yeah," she said, uncertainly. "Why?" Violet gave him a look that drove him crazy. She knew what his next question was, and it amused her to no end. "You really miss me, don't you?" she asked, getting out of her seat. She walked over to him, a sassy smile on her lips and her tongue sticking out between her teeth. He smiled at her and pushed out his seat, but didn't stand. She dragged a hand over his shoulders and watched him shudder from the shock of her unbearably cold hands and that small surge of electricity that he got from her touch. She smiled to herself, not missing the electricity flowing through her cold veins. If her heart still beat, she was sure it would've exploded. The cheeky smile she wore told him that she loved toying with him. he stood up, and now he toward over her, not by much, but enough.

"Don't act like you didn't miss me," he said, walking forward, causing her to back up. The smile was still playing on her lips, and she laughed. It was the dreary 'ha-ha' he was used to, but a genuine laugh he hasn't heard before. Those red lips curved upwards into a real smile, and he couldn't believe it. She was _happy, _genuinely happy, with him here. He thought he'd never see the day. That was all the encouragement he needed. He backed her into a corner between the counter and the fridge and smiled back at her, his dimples showing and his eyes flaring at her. "I knew it," he said, his voice light and playful. She stared up at him and smiled softly. He opened his mouth to speak, but her lips covered his, muffling the sound.

"I might've missed you," she said, "but never assume anything if it involves me." He smiled at her and grabbed one of her smaller, delicate hands. Her long, black nails scraped his hand lightly. The charge sent through him made her laugh again, and the shiver she gave made him smile slightly.

Slowly, his lips softly made contact with hers, and the shock was enough to make him explode, but he didn't. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her again.


End file.
